


Map of the Problematique

by a_lanart



Series: Mystery Verse [33]
Category: Doctor Who, Highlander: The Series, Torchwood
Genre: Children of Earth Compliant, Crossover, Gen, Gift Fic, M/M, Not Miracle Day Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2020-10-28 23:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20786465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_lanart/pseuds/a_lanart
Summary: Methos and Jack have been travelling with the Eleventh Doctor in the TARDIS for some time, this is a story of their first return to earth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [subcircus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/subcircus/gifts).

> As the first fic I've written in about a year, this is a gift for the person who has been a great support through some traumatic times in RL as well as being my ninja beta and illustrator on 2 Big Bang works in this universe. On here she is known as subcircus, you might also know her as idontlikegravy from LJ/DmW. Thank you Gravy.
> 
> Title is from the song of the same name by Muse, they are my go to band for Methos inspiration but this song also makes me think of Doctor Who thanks to a youtube vid I saw years ago.

~*~

Methos sprawled on the floor, an ungainly tangle of arms and legs, with his nose in a book and his back resting against the railings surrounding the TARDIS console. He’d left Jack sleeping like a log – if logs snuffled and muttered – and decided to keep the Doctor company after a pleasant swim in the library. The scholar in him adored these peaceful moments, the living thrum of the TARDIS at rest in the Time Vortex punctuated by the gentle sound of pages turning. The Doctor was puttering around happily, his natural ebullience simmering quietly rather than boiling madly as he tinkered, flipping the occasional switch. It was all rather domestic Methos thought, or as domestic as three ancient people travelling in a telepathic ship through space and time could get. He chuckled. The Doctor peered askance at him and the chuckle developed into an outright laugh, though it was curtailed by the Doctor’s exasperated sigh.

Methos closed the book and laid it aside, but before he could open his mouth to utter a tart rejoinder the thrum of the TARDIS changed in intensity. They were on the move. He thought nothing of it until the Doctor yelled,

“Hang on a minute, where do you think you’re going?” Methos surged upright, one hand on the railings as the Doctor danced around flipping switches and hitting buttons. “No no no no no, this is a bad idea. A REALLY bad idea. Honestly. You can’t do this!”

“Obviously she can,” Methos commented. He assumed that the TARDIS had decided to take them somewhere the Doctor didn’t want to go. She didn’t do it often, but when she did making life interesting was the least of the usual outcomes. He took a step closer and patted the console gently in case she was feeling a bit offended with the Doctor.

“You’re no help,” the Doctor groused.

“I’m not trying to help, if you hadn’t noticed.” Methos was proud that he managed not to outright grin at the Doctor, but it was a battle.

“Hmmph.” The Doctor had stopped dashing round the console and was staring at the small viewscreen with a worried look on his face. That, more than anything else, brought it home to Methos that the Doctor was genuinely concerned about where they were headed. He frowned.

“Maybe you’d best just tell me where she’s taking us,” he said gently as he stepped round the console. The Doctor glanced at him, chewing on his lip, then back at the screen. Methos sighed. Sometimes getting information out of the Doctor was like pulling teeth. “Please?” He added.

The Doctor let out a gusty sigh and met Methos’ eyes, there were lines of tension on his face that usually weren’t there. Methos’ heart lurched slightly, the Doctor really was worried and Methos doubted it was about him as he’d lived his life on the slow path while Jack, like the Doctor, had bounced through and around time with no discernible order. Or he had lived his life on the slow path until Jack turned up in Seacouver only a few months after he had left, less than a year since Ianto had died, to take him away from a world that was still too painful. It hadn’t been months after for Jack at that point and Methos bet that this was part of the issue. After all it had apparently been the TARDIS who had decided on that point in time back then too, and not the Doctor.

“Cardiff. Five years after you joined us,” the Doctor said, confirming Methos’ suspicions and explaining the reluctance to answer him.

“I see.” Methos let out a sigh of his own and broke away from the Doctor’s intense gaze to fling a glance over his shoulder in the direction of the TARDIS living quarters. “This might be… problematic,” he said, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Doctor as they looked at the viewscreen together.

“I know,” agreed the Doctor. Methos gave himself a mental shake, staring in silence at the TARDIS viewscreen wasn’t going to change anything about their destination and though a return to Cardiff was bittersweet, his memories of the recent past there were cherished all the more because of the extraordinary man who touched his life so deeply in the short time allotted to him. He was lucky as all his memories of Cardiff and Ianto were good ones, but there was another important person in his life who didn’t share that luxury.

“I need to tell Jack,” Methos announced into the silence that hung around the TARDIS console.

“You need to tell Jack what?” Jack’s voice drifted over from the other side of the room. Methos whirled round, he hadn’t heard Jack’s approach, distracted as he had been. “Tell me what?” Jack repeated in a gentler tone as he made his way down the stairs. Methos ran a hand through his hair, he would have preferred to tell Jack in his own time, and in a bit more privacy, but that was no reason **not** to tell him now he was only a few steps away; with Jack it was better to be direct.

“The TARDIS has decided we need to go to Cardiff, five years after we left,” he said, his gut twisting at the stricken expression, quickly suppressed, that flashed across Jack’s face.

“Any idea why, Doctor?” Jack asked. A pertinent question, and one that Methos had forgotten about in his worry about Jack.

“It seems the Old Girl wants to be introduced to your immortal friend, Siannon O’Niall, and decided that ‘now’ was the appropriate time,” the Doctor said, staring at the time rotor. “You realise you could have just asked instead of springing it on us like this, don’t you, dear?” If the TARDIS answered the Doctor it was beyond Methos’ ability to detect, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. Jack joined them at the console and Methos wrapped him in a gentle hug, stealing a quick kiss.

“You have to admit she got the timing right for us though, didn’t she?” He said. Jack wriggled uncomfortably and Methos tightened his arms in reassurance.

“She did, and I’ll always be in her debt for that, but...” No more needed to be said. Despite the years travelling with the Doctor, much longer than five for them both, they still missed Ianto. Methos thought they always would, even far into the future when they didn’t remember him clearly any more. Jack leaned into his encircling arms, eyes closed, clinging to Methos’ hands. They remained wrapped around each other in silence until the TARDIS came to a halt.

“We’re here,” the Doctor announced, somewhat unnecessarily Methos thought as that much was patently obvious to all of them. “Wherever ‘here’ is exactly. Let’s take a look, shall we?”


	2. Chapter 2

Siannon was greeted by a bright and clear Cardiff morning as she folded back the shutters on the bay windows. A crow was perched on one of the window boxes outside, watching as she carefully latched the shutters into their open position, more than likely hoping for a treat when she opened the window.

“Good morning,” she said, obliging the crow with a scatter of seeds on the window box.

“Caw!” the crow replied, bobbing its head before pecking at the seeds, eyeing her hopefully once they’d gone.

“No more this morning, I’m afraid.” She chuckled as the crow gave her a rather disgusted look before flapping away. The crow would be back later no doubt, just in time for lunch.

Siannon loved this time of day before everyone else arrived and the place was hers alone, it also gave her a feeling of kinship with Joe Dawson and the quiet times they’d shared at his bar. She had the added advantage of living in the spacious flat on the top floor of this building so she didn’t really have to go far to start opening up for the day if she wasn’t already out on Torchwood business. Sometimes Gwen or one of the others would drop in for breakfast on their way to St James’ but as it was Siannon’s day off she enjoyed her breakfast in splendid and comfortable isolation.

~*~~

“Why here? Why now? And why on earth are we next to a…” The Doctor frowned, then squinted at the image on the viewscreen “...pub?”

Methos chuckled, and received a shove off the Doctor for his trouble, their blue lady knew him far too well. He took a closer look and realised he recognised the area. The TARDIS didn’t just know him and his penchant for beer, he suspected she’d been eavesdropping on his rare phone calls from the woman who most likely owned the place, or possibly a conversation with Jack. Jack, whose hand was still wrapped around his; he gave the hand a slight tug to get Jack’s attention.

“You know where this is, Jack. Zoom out a little would you, cariad glas?” The TARDIS obliged him.

“That’s the old Cardiff Bay Station House! It’s looking a lot better than the last time I saw it.”

“Same here. We can probably thank Siannon for that.”

“I intend to.” Jack reached back and patted the console. “Thanks, dear. You’ll love her when you meet her. Now shall we go and give Siannon a surprise?”

“We could, but _he_ can’t, in case you’d forgotten,” said the Doctor as he indicated Methos.

“But you’re also forgetting that I’m very old, very sneaky and used to hiding in plain sight,” Methos replied with a grin. “I have a trick up my sleeve that I haven’t used since I joined you because I’ve not needed to. Plus it takes a bit more concentration than I’ve generally had free to use since then,” he said. Jack winked at him which Methos duly ignored, though with more effort than he hoped was obvious.

“A trick that will defeat that immortal radar system of yours? That’s rather useful and just a little bit clever, if you don’t mind me saying,” the Doctor commented as he turned to face them with a grin.

Jack shrugged. “I would have just said ‘neat trick’.” Methos elbowed him, he thought rather more gently than Jack deserved.

“That’s because you’ve got no imagination,” Methos said.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Jack replied

“True,” Methos conceded with a slight, almost secret, smile only to be answered by Jack’s megawatt grin that was anything but secret.

“Or the night before...” added Jack as his grin softened, becoming more personal, more intimate and Methos felt his smile widen in response as his focus narrowed, filtering out almost everything but Jack.

“Also true,” he said as he moved infinitesimally closer to Jack, more a shift of balance and stance than an actual step. “OK, maybe you’ve just got a one track mind.”

“Are you complaining?” Jack asked. Methos met his eyes, aware that Jack was searching his face for a sign that he’d misstepped, more fragile beneath the surface than most people would think from the outward face that Jack presented to the world. Methos felt privileged that he was one of the few who had been – and still was – allowed to see that. Ianto had been another, which was probably why Jack was feeling unsure now they were back here, in Cardiff, where every corner must remind him of what he had lost; no, what _they _had lost. Methos took Jack’s hand, dropped a kiss into the palm and folded his fingers around it, before taking that hand in both of his own.

“Do I look like I’m complaining?” It was almost a whisper, but they were close enough that Jack would be able to feel what he said against his skin even if he couldn’t actually hear what Methos had said.

“Now that you mention it, no...”

Much to Methos’ annoyance, and no doubt Jack’s also, the Doctor chose that moment to interrupt.

“Knock it off you two. Places to go, people to see, remember?”

“But...” Methos placed two fingers on Jack’s lips, partly to shut him up but also partly as a reminder that they had plenty of time to revisit the anticipated conclusion to the conversation. Plus, the Doctor had a point and here in the TARDIS Methos was willing to admit that.

“He’s right, Jack. Now shush.” Jack shrugged, but didn’t say anything in reply though he did start kissing Methos’ fingers where they lay on his lips. Methos moved his hand, a lot slower than he probably should have done, but… he gave himself a mental nudge. Jack’s nearness was distracting, even though he was mostly used to it. “Hey, I need to concentrate and I can’t when you’re doing that, so go and make yourself scarce for a minute, there’s a good boy.” Methos gave Jack a gentle shove in the direction of the stairs, determined not to get distracted again. He’d been serious about the concentration needed in order to dampen the external signs of his quickening, especially if he was to conceal himself from someone who was as old, and who knew him as well, as Siannon.

“Don’t you just hate it when he plays the age card?” The Doctor commented in a stage whisper as Jack joined him at the bottom of the steps.

“I heard that!” Methos said to their backs as he hung over the railing.

“You were supposed to. Come on Jack, let’s leave him alone to perform his little trick. We can wait outside.” The door closed behind them, leaving Methos alone in the TARDIS. He sat down in one of the seats that surrounded the console and leaned back. He smiled.

“I suppose I’d best get on with this, but between you and me, my girl, I’m afraid I might be rather out of practice.” The lights in the console room shimmered slightly and Methos couldn’t decide whether the TARDIS was laughing at him or offering encouragement. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and turned his focus inwards and _down_.

When he exited the TARDIS Jack and the Doctor were leaning on the railings at the street corner. Jack looked rather wistful, which Methos understood as soon as he raised his eyes to see what held Jack’s attention. The Millennium Centre. The inscription that faced the Plas couldn’t be seen from their direction, or this distance, but they both knew it anyway. Methos walked towards them, wrapping his arms around Jack and resting his head on Jack’s shoulder.

“Creu Gwir Fel Gwydr O Ffwrnais Awen,” Methos said. Jack kissed his forehead gently, and replied,

“In these Stones Horizons Sing.”

To Methos’ relief the Doctor let them share the moment without interrupting and it was only when Jack straightened, and Methos loosened his arms that he spoke.

“Why doesn’t my TARDIS translate Welsh any more? At least I presume that was Welsh.” He sounded plaintive, almost as if he’d discovered a friend sneaking around behind his back. Methos supposed he almost had in a way and deserved an explanation, in this case at least.

“I asked her not to if it was a personal thing, she mostly gets it right,” Methos said as he squeezed Jack’s hand.

“Oh.” The Doctor still appeared to be disappointed as he glanced over his shoulder at the TARDIS and ran a hand through his hair with a distracted expression on his face, which then cleared to be replaced by a smile. Methos suspected she had given the Doctor a metaphorical and telepathic kick. “Oh! Well that’s OK then, I suppose. But...”

Methos forestalled the Doctor’s next slew of questions by answering the one he thought was the most obvious. “It’s the inscription from the Millennium Centre, I thought you would recognise it, you’ve parked opposite the place more than once.”

The Doctor peered in the direction of the Millennium centre and the Plas. “Ah,” he said.

“You didn’t notice did you?” Methos asked.

The Doctor shook his head, but had the grace to look shamefaced about it. Methos decided he could be forgiven and offered another nugget of information.

“The Welsh means “Creating Truth Like Glass From Inspiration's Furnace” if you’re interested.”

“Thanks. I think it sounds better in Welsh.”

And that, Methos realised, was the closest the Doctor was going to come to saying he approved of the TARDIS acquiescing to Methos’ request. He smiled in acknowledgement, the Doctor grinned in return.

“And now,” the Doctor said, “I think we have a friend of yours to surprise. Shall we?”

Together, the three of them headed towards the door of the pub that was, somewhat reassuringly in Methos’ opinion, called Y Ddraig Goch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The old Cardiff Bay station house really does exist. It was possibly designed by Isambard Kingdom Brunel and built in October 1840 and until recently was in a state of increasing disrepair. It's now been converted into offices with a cafe/bar made from converted containers next to it. When I first thought of it as a bar for Siannon to own and live above it was still for sale so I've taken some liberties with the setting. Cardiff Bay station is still next door, though that may be changing in the future. 
> 
> I have pics of the interior which I will include at the end. It has a loft vibe and it's not a stretch to imagine what it would be like as something other than offices.

~*~

Breakfast was long done but it was still early enough that Siannon could enjoy her own company for a while longer. She decided to unlock the door as it wouldn’t be long before Tony, her long-suffering manager and the person who pretty much ran the place, was in for the day. That done, she ducked behind the bar to check up on their single malt collection. She made a point of stocking Irish and Welsh whiskies as well as Scottish; it was her own special project in a way, she left the other business decisions in Tony’s capable hands. The door creaked slightly as it opened.

“You’re early!” She shouted from her position behind the bar.

“Are you so sure about that?” came the reply. It wasn’t Tony. Her breath hitched for a moment and it felt like her heart missed a beat as while it wasn’t the voice she had been expecting it was one that was achingly familiar to her and belonged to a person whose absence she had felt keenly in the last few years.

“Methos?!” She exploded upright to be met with a smile she hadn’t seen in five years and hadn’t been sure she would see again for decades. “Methos! You reprehensible old trickster!”She launched herself around, or possibly over, the bar and into his arms, laughing as joy bubbled up within her when his quickening finally washed over and through her, flooding her nerves with its welcome presence as he presumably relinquished the rigid control he had kept over it.

“Well, I guess that worked,” announced a voice from behind her, one less well-known to her than Methos’ but still much missed. Jack Harkness. She kissed Methos’ cheek and spun away from him, straight into Jack’s arms, unsure whether she was laughing or crying. It may only have been five years since she had last seen them, a mere drop in the ocean of time to an immortal, but it was still too long a gap. Considering with whom they’d been travelling, she was fairly certain they had been away for longer than the five years she had spent on the slow path. Their almost palpable lightness of being suggested as much. She was sure their grief for Ianto was still just as profound – he would never be forgotten, that one – they had obviously found peace and happiness with each other, something they both deserved. She assumed that travelling with the Doctor has been just they distraction they needed. That thought reminded her that there was another person in the room, keeping himself apart from their tearfully joyful reunion but almost vibrating with interest, a person who must be the Doctor, the man of many faces. He didn’t look like a millennium old alien but in the Doctor’s case she knew that appearances were deceiving to say the least even though that conclusion was purely based on what she had been told by Methos, Jack and Ianto. He looked more like a cross between a slightly madcap professor or librarian and an overgrown child dressed in his grandfather’s clothes.

“You must be The Doctor,” she said, as she stepped away from Jack. “Thank you for bringing these two reprobates to visit, I’ve missed them.”

The Doctor looked at his feet, then back up at her, he looked slightly embarrassed.

“Well, um, it wasn’t actually my idea. Sorry.” The Doctor shrugged apologetically.

“It wasn’t ours either, to be fair,” Jack admitted.

“So…?” Siannon let the question hang in the air, wondering who would answer first. 

“My TARDIS has a mind of her own and sometimes takes it upon herself to deliver us to where and when she thinks we should be, no matter what I tell her. Seems she wanted to meet you and thought this now was a good time.” 

Siannon gaped at him soundlessly for a moment, she hadn’t been expecting that revelation. That a telepathic space-time ship had decided she wanted an introduction was certainly a new experience for her. She cleared her throat not only in order to find her voice, but also to warn Methos that if she found him giggling at her, he would regret it. She knew he’d get the message, they’d known each other long enough after all.

“Then I don’t think we should keep her waiting. An enterprising lady like that needs to be thanked properly,” she said sincerely. “I can lock up here again on our way out and Tony can just let himself in like he usually does.”

“Tony?” Methos asked

“The guy who actually runs the place. I just own the building and come up with the occasional suggestion, he does all the hard work. He’s also used to me disappearing when I’m supposed to be around, he knows I don’t always keep regular or predictable hours.”

They headed for the door, Siannon ushering The Doctor and Jack out ahead of her and Methos. He stood next to her outside as she locked it, their backs to the other two which gave him the chance, and a semblance of privacy, to ask her the question she suspected he didn’t want to in front of Jack.

“Torchwood, still?”

“Yes. I made a promise, Methos, and I’m enjoying the keeping of it.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, and brushed a kiss over her cheek as he left her side to join Jack and The Doctor. She leaned her forehead on the door for a minute and took a deep breath. There were certain things that were going to have to be broached about Torchwood, or more accurately some of its personnel, with both Methos and Jack and that was a can of worms she wasn’t exactly looking forward to opening. Better to focus on the reason for their visit, it was a much more pleasant prospect after all. She grinned as she pocketed her keys, and joined the others where they were perched around one of the outside tables. She was about to meet a telepathic alien ship and damn her to hell and back but she was rather looking forward to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	4. Chapter 4

~*~

Siannon knew that the Doctor’s TARDIS was a blue police box and was one of those who would recognise it anyway from when they were more common being dotted around and about throughout the 50s and 60s, as were Jack and Methos. Knowing what to expect didn’t make the TARDIS look any less incongruous against the modern Cardiff backdrop in her opinion, though she was amused that everyone else who passed just ignored the strange blue box as they wandered by.

“I assume the perception filter doesn’t work if you know about it?” She asked after watching another person stroll on past the TARDIS, oblivious.

“Something like that. However, you immortals seem to be quite resistant to the idea of having your perceptions clouded as it never worked on him, even back when we first met,” the Doctor replied, indicating Methos with a wave of a hand in his direction.

“Survival instinct, I expect,” she said.

“Probably,” the Doctor agreed. “Anyway, Welcome to my TARDIS, Siannon O’Niall,” he said with a smile and clicked his fingers. The door opened but not enough so that she could see the interior clearly though she received the impression of light like iridescent honey. Any chance she had of seeing further into the ship was defeated by Jack and Methos choosing to stand in her way as the Doctor strode through the door. 

“Close your eyes,” said Jack.

“But I already know the inside is bigger than the outside, thanks to you two,” she protested.

“Knowing it is one thing, seeing it for yourself is...” Jack shrugged, then Methos continued,

“Another thing entirely. And believe me, the surprise will be worth the minor inconvenience, so close your eyes.”

“But...” Siannon wasn’t going to give in without a protest, even a half hearted one.

“Oh go on Siannon, just for us.”

“Jack...”

“Please?”

“Oh all right then. If it makes you both happy.”

“Great!” Jack’s grin lit his face, matched by an accompanying smile from Methos. Jack reached out to take her hand as she shut her eyes and she felt Methos move behind her to rest one hand on her shoulder and the other one on her waist. She hadn’t really been averse to the idea of being blindly lead into the TARDIS in the first place, not that she would admit to that, though Methos probably already knew and had played along because he was quite aware of her penchant for making them both work for their small victories. She allowed herself a smile as her two guides lead her across the TARDIS threshold.

A couple of steps took them inside far enough for the door to close behind them, which she felt rather than heard as the quality of the atmosphere changed around her, as if the air was charged with anticipation. A few more and they came to a stop. Jack relinquished his hold on her hand only to move his own to the small of her back where Methos then loosely clasped his fingers so she could feel them both in what seemed to be a gesture of mutual support. Methos squeezed her shoulder gently with his other hand before removing it and leaned closer. She could feel his breath against her cheek.

“Open your eyes,” he whispered. 

Siannon obliged, and inadvertently took and indrawn gasp of astonishment and wonder. She had been unsure of what to expect of the whole ‘bigger on the inside’ thing, but what was certain was that any and all of the half baked expectations she had borne were blown to smithereens with her first glance of the amazing, cathedral-like and yet organic space.

“You’re beautiful!” She exclaimed. Behind her, Methos and Jack chuckled in unison at her reaction. The Doctor was grinning from ear to ear, looking entirely too pleased with himself, and most likely bursting with pride.

“I’m glad we agree on that,” he said. “I think that she’s the most gorgeous and sexy TARDIS a Time Lord could wish for, but then I suppose I’m biased.” He patted the railing he was leaning against in emphasis. Siannon grinned back at him.

“You might be biased but that doesn’t make it less true. Your blue skinned lady is magnificent on the inside.”

The lights shimmered and the Doctor laughed, glancing towards the raised area at the centre of the confoundedly amazing space.

“She likes you,” he said. “It appears those two immortal miscreants were right.” the Doctor waved a hand in Methos and Jack’s direction were they still stood behind Siannon. 

“Of course we were right, Siannon is very likeable,” said Jack.

“Annoyingly so,” added Methos. She stepped away from them and turned so she could see them both, diligently trying to keep her face straight. 

“Thanks Jack. As for you...” she swatted Methos on the arm but was distracted from any further remonstration by a clatter behind her. 

The Doctor bounded up the steps heading to the raised platform that contained the weird conglomeration of glass sculpture and what looked like a relative of HG Wells idea of a spaceship command module, which meant it probably was the spaceship command module but at the very least it seemed to be the heart – the focus – of the vast interior space. He paused as he reached the platform and turned to face Siannon. He was still grinning, she couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“What are you still doing down there? You’re going to have to come a lot closer for a formal introduction, you know. She’s rather curious about you.”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Siannon replied as she made her way towards the steps, and from there up to the heart of the TARDIS. The Doctor waved her closer until she was standing next to him.

“Just put your hand there on the console,” he said and indicated a rectangular plate nestled in amongst all the wires, dials and switches. She placed her hand gingerly on the flat surface, and glanced up at the Doctor.

“Now what?”

“Introduce yourself, of course! Not with all your names though, if you don’t mind, you immortals seem to collect names like some people collect stamps. Do people still actually do that, by the way? Strange hobby.” He didn’t wait for her to answer but leaned over to flick one of the multitude of switches. She looked down at her hand, where the plate had begun to glow faintly in a way that reminded her of Jack the one time he’d tried to ‘touch’ her with what drove his immortality, which confirmed to her mind that the TARDIS was indeed responsible. She smiled.

“Hello TARDIS, I’m Siannon O’Niall, one of Methos’ immortal friends, and I am very pleased to meet you at last.” Every word was sincere, though she wouldn’t have chanced saying them if they weren’t, not to a telepathic spaceship who could do who-knew-what to her. The light beneath her hand brightened, the plate becoming warm to touch but not unpleasantly so. So far so good. She was about to focus on her Quickening in an attempt to reach out to the TARDIS with it when Methos’ voice broke into the silence.

“Use your Quickening, she’s not going to hurt you.”

Great Minds, she thought, and did just that; focusing inwards, then _up_, through her skin to meet with this connection of otherness, still half expecting to receive a jolt that would send her crashing into the railings.


	5. Chapter 5

~*~ 

Even though her eyes had drifted shut again, she could see the golden glow intensify through her eyelids, matched by what she was feeling as warmth travelled from her hand and seemed to be seeking out out hidden places and shedding light on them, more like the pervasive warmth of the northern sun than the harshness of the desert or fire. Where she had reached out with her Quickening it felt like some unfathomable question was being asked as tendrils of coruscating gold wrapped gently around lightning; the answer seemed to be accepted and the intrusion welcomed. Her head was full of light and memories flashed through her mind, to fast for her to register most of them as if there was a conversation about her going on that she could barely perceive. She did notice that any recollection of Methos, Jack and Ianto was lingered upon and examined in the light for longer than most before being allowed to fade back into the shadows. She had no idea of how much time had passed when the light rapidly, but gently, withdrew and she was left alone with her Quickening once more. It was impossible to open her eyes immediately and she clutched onto the edge of the console for dear life as she swayed, only to be steadied by two pairs of hands. She let out an explosive gasp, then blinked once or twice before her eyes decided to work properly. The first things she was able to bring into focus were two worried looking pairs of eyes, one blue and the other hazel. She gave them s slightly wobbly smile.

“That was… different,” she said, which was a massive understatement to say the least, but she was still at a loss for expressing anything more complex.

“Are you OK?” Asked Methos as he and Jack let go of her, allowing her to turn round and lean against the console.

“I’m fine, but if that was hello, I doubt I’d be up to having any sort of conversation with her. I feel like I’ve been poked, prodded and generally peered at from the inside out, which isn’t exactly a comfortable sensation, but having said that I think she was actually quite gentle about it. And now...” she stretched and gave everyone on the room a grin. “...well, I actually feel pretty good. My head’s a lot clearer and my Quickening seems to be more settled than it was, if that makes any sense.”

The Doctor leaned round the console from where he was standing and smiled at her.

“I said she was curious, and liked you. She probably had a bit of a rummage and a tidy up while she was in there,” he said.

“A _**bit **_?!” Siannon burst out laughing, then reached behind herself to pat the console. “No offence, TARDIS dear. As for you, Old Man, it would have been nice if you could have warned me how intense that was going to be.”

Methos shrugged from where he had sprawled in one of of the chairs surrounding the console.

“I’ve _never_ been nice_,_ but in all fairness it wasn’t that intense for me. I don’t know whether that is because I first met her about 3000 years ago when she’d already met a later version of me a couple of hundred years earlier in her own timeline or what. It was a bit confusing for everyone to be honest.”

Siannon glared at Methos, then shook her head to clear it.

“I bet it was. Just thinking about Time Travel makes my head hurt,” she said.

“You get used to it,” Jack commented from his perch on the stairs next to Methos’ chair. Siannon turned her glare to him, for all the good she knew it would do.

“Easy for you to say, Jack Harkness, you won’t be born for another 3000 or so years! Plus older you has had plenty of practice of avoiding younger you over the years. I think I prefer the slow path; it’s less complicated and far less headache inducing!”

“She has a point,” Methos agreed.

“Whose side are you on?” Jack protested. Siannon thought he was probably trying to look offended, but the smile he couldn’t quite keep off his face spoiled the effect somewhat.

“My own, of course,” said Methos nonchalantly. “Only way I can be certain of keeping things straight after this long.”

The Doctor’s head appeared around the console again, this time to glower at Methos.

“Oi, no more playing the age card today, you’re over your limit and you have an unfair advantage over all of us,” he said.

“So do you with Time Travel, Doctor. You were born to it.”

“True, but Jack wasn’t.”

Methos chuckled. “Jack’s very… adaptable, or hadn’t you noticed? I suppose being with the Time Agency didn’t hurt either.”

“Oh them,” the Doctor waved a dismissive hand. “Children playing with toys, that’s all.”

“Hey! That’s my past you’re dissing,” Jack complained.

“Dagda’s Balls! Never mind Time Travel, _you_ lot are making my head hurt. I feel sorry for the TARDIS, she can’t get away from you!” Siannon wasn’t sure whether to laugh, scream or cry. She settled for running a hand through her hair and casting an exasperated glance at Methos and Jack.

“She has been known to lock us out occasionally,” admitted Methos, his face carefully expressionless.

“I’m not surprised,”said Siannon. “What happens then?”

“Oh Jack and I get abandoned somewhere remote for a year or two.”

“Sometimes longer, don’t forget,” added Jack.

The Doctor bounced around the console and came to a stop next to Siannon.

“That was only once,” he said. He looked so earnest that Siannon couldn’t help but believe him.

“We generally manage to muddle along without wanting to kill each other too often,” said Methos as he straightened in his chair.

The Doctor folded his arms. Siannon wondered if he was trying to look cross because if he was, it didn’t really work.

“Not like it would make any difference if I did kill you two, apart from creating more mess than you do alive, which really wouldn’t be fair on the TARDIS,” he said.

“Which is why we don’t do that to her,” Methos said with a wave indicating Jack and himself.

“On purpose at least,” said the Doctor.

“I don’t think I want to know how you managed to accidentally kill each other.”

“Wasn’t both of them, just Jack.”

“I _still _don’t want to know!” Siannon reiterated.

“I think that’s a very wise decision,” Methos said.

“So do I,” agreed Jack in a small voice. The expression on his face was enough to make Siannon break out in peals of laughter. She’d just about managed to get herself under control when a surreptitious giggle from Methos’ direction set her off again. Eventually she had to stop laughing as she’d run out of breath.

“Well now we’ve got that out of the way, would you like to see more of the TARDIS, Siannon?” Asked the Doctor. Siannon didn’t look at him directly as she didn’t want to start laughing again and if his face matched his tone of voice she didn’t think she’d be able to stop. However, she could still give him a genuine answer.

“I’d love to, thanks.”

“Which means that you two could carry on with that _conversation_ you started earlier; preferably somewhere I can’t see you.”

“And miss Siannon’s reaction to our girl, Doctor? Sorry Methos, but I think that _conversation_ will have to wait.”

“Apology accepted, for once I agree with you.”

“We can always play catch up later.” Jack grinned, his eyes twinkling. Methos replied with a smile of his own.

“Naturally,” he said.

“Oh for goodness sake… I do hope someone reminds my next regeneration not to go travelling with a couple. The Ponds aren’t too bad, but you two take the absolute biscuit!”

“But TARDIS loves us...”

“And I suppose even you must at least some of the time or we wouldn’t still be here driving you mad.”

“Vortex have mercy! Siannon, shall we go?” The Doctor offered her an arm and Siannon accepted with a smile. As they clattered down the steps she heard Methos and Jack fall in behind them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siannon gets a guided tour of the TARDIS

~*~

Methos grabbed Jack’s hand as they trailed after the Doctor and Siannon, smiling at him as they wended their way through the twisty corridors of the TARDIS. He’d never had a ‘guided tour’ from this Doctor as Jack had shown him around, which had ended up taking an inordinate amount of time as they’d kept on being distracted by each other. Eventually he’d fixed a map of this interior of the TARDIS in his head but even without the distraction of Jack it had taken longer than expected as the TARDIS had grown extra rooms and moved others so they’d all had new areas to discover. The layout had remained consistent for some time now so Methos was familiar with the path the Doctor took, and when he realised which room was likely to be their final destination his smile turned into an outright grin. Apart from the room he shared with Jack it was his favourite of all the myriad rooms in the TARDIS; the Doctor had obviously heard enough about Siannon from both him and Jack to understand that quite apart from the immortality he shared with her they were kindred spirits in their love of certain things. Jack chuckled, and squeezed his fingers as the assumption was confirmed by the grin the Doctor threw over his shoulder at them as they arrived at that last door.

“And this is the library,” said the Doctor as he opened the door with a flourish.

The gasp Siannon uttered at her first sight of what was beyond the door, coupled with her expression of amazement and sheer joy was a reaction that was everything that Methos could have wished for, and bore more than a passing resemblance to his own. She stepped past the Doctor, who winked at Methos behind her back.

“Oh I could die happy in here,” she said as she slowly turned around. Methos let go of Jack’s hand after a quick squeeze of his fingers and stood next to her as she came to rest. 

“I know exactly what you mean,” he agreed. 

“It’s your favourite room too?”

“Almost,” he said, sharing an intimate smile with Jack. “Now let me show you my favourite spot, and then we can go through to the swimming pool.” 

“A swimming pool? In a library?!” Siannon spluttered.

“It’s not exactly in the library any more, more kind of next door. The TARDIS moved things around a bit after _someone_ got crotchety about possible humidity damage,” the Doctor clarified and Methos had to chuckle, crotchety wasn’t a word that had ever been used to describe him that he could remember.

“In my defence, I was only concerned for the books,” he said. 

“Oh, of course,” Siannon agreed. “Now come on and show me your spot, then I can see this diabolical swimming pool for myself.” 

Methos’ favourite part of the library was in a recess away from the main expanse of the room and formed by the surrounding bookshelves, including those that ran above it, almost making it a room within a room. There were several squishy armchairs with mismatched covers and cushions, a chaise longue in a decadent, deep purple velvet, a table with tapestry covered chairs on 3 sides, that were actually much more comfortable than they looked, a variety of lamps dotted around so the light could be adjusted to suit anyone and a chest in the corner that stored blankets and extra cushions as he liked to sprawl on the floor to read on occasion, but didn’t see why that couldn’t be done in comfort. The best thing about his little book nook was that depending on his mood he could either turn his back and forget about the vast expanse of the main library or position a chair so that he could look up from whatever he was reading and just revel in the glory of the room beyond. 

“So this is where you hide when you need some ‘me’ time, then. I don’t blame you, it’s wonderful” Siannon said. 

“I knew you’d understand,” Methos replied. This space was his own personal sanctuary in the TARDIS and even when he did have company they abided on his terms, including Jack. In a way it reminded him of Ianto’s ‘office’ in the Torchwood archives and it gave him the same sense of peace.

Siannon interrupted his reverie with a far too perceptive comment in his opinion, though it wasn’t exactly a surprise. “Ianto would have loved this.” 

He glanced at her with a gentle smile. “He would. We all know that.”

“Including Jack?”

“Especially Jack. It’s easier for us to remember him here than most other places in the TARDIS.” 

“That’s lovely.” 

They stood in silence for a moment, then Methos threw an arm around her shoulder and gave her a hug, she relaxed into it, winding an arm around his waist and smiling up at him; he smiled back at her, then dropped a kiss on her forehead. 

“Shall we catch up with the other two before they come looking for us?” He asked.

“Probably not a bad idea,” she agreed. 

Methos didn’t allow her to unwrap herself from him, he’d missed her and he didn’t know how long it would be for either of them before they saw each other again so he was going to enjoy having her close while he could. He was pleased that she didn’t protest, even though he hadn’t actually expected her to, and just let herself be led back into the main part of the library. 

~*~

Jack grinned at them as Siannon and Methos rounded the corner still wrapped around each other, and it widened when Siannon stretched out her free arm and wiggled her fingers in invitation. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t need a second one from her and took the position on her free side, slinging an arm around her with a caress of Methos’ where it already lay around her shoulders. She wound her free one around his waist, and smiled at the eye roll the Doctor gave all three of them.

“If you’re _quite_ ready?” he asked.

“After you,” Siannon said. They followed the Doctor as he walked ahead of them, muttering and grumbling incoherently under his breath and while she did her best not to laugh at him a choked sounding squeak-snort managed to escape her control. The Doctor’s ‘Hmmph!’ in reaction was perfectly audible, necessitating several deep breaths on her part to avoid another fit of the giggles.

The light grew brighter as the Doctor lead them through the seemingly haphazard stacks of shelves, until after rounding one last corner they were confronted with a wall of tall, arched, and many-paned windows surrounded by magnificent stone tracery that incorporated roundels of complex interlocking shapes while the central panel that held the doors was surmounted by an almost Celtic looking rendition of the lemniscate. Through the widows she could see plenty of greenery, making it appear more like a Victorian orangery or conservatory than the swimming pool extension of a mind boggling library on a spaceship, though she supposed as it was the first one she’d ever seen there was nothing with which to compare it.

_“That’s_ your swimming pool?!” she exclaimed. The Doctor stepped back, and nodded. “Through the doors, yes,” he replied.

“Wow! Can I?...” The Doctor grasped the handle of one of the doors then opened it towards himself, standing aside as he held it wide for her.

“Be my guest,” he said. There was a gentle push from both Methos and Jack as they unwrapped themselves from her, though not from each other, and with that encouragement, she stepped across the threshold.


	7. Chapter 7

~*~

The orangery theme continued with the pool itself, there was a stone balustrade surrounding it on three sides, with a flight of steps on the open side that descended into the pool. The steps were adorned by statues of various animals, but there was not a single cherub, angel or otherwise humanoid figure to be spied amongst all the various statuary in the room; that struck Siannon as slightly odd, but there was probably some other-worldly reason for it and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. She moved closer to the pool, her feet producing a faint ‘tink’ as she stepped on the inlaid tiles that covered the floor. Near the steps to the pool were a strategically placed seating group and a table, a set of open shelves in the same beaten-copper colour as the chairs nestled in the greenery next to them with a wickerwork chest on the bottom shelf, presumably towels or something similar. There were small but intricately shaped metal grills set in the floor at strategic intervals that blended into the pattern of tiles without disrupting the overall harmony of the room. It smelled of green things and peace, without a trace of the chlorine that would be expected of a swimming pool on earth. At the opposite end of the pool was a small, tiered pedestal fountain with another seating group that echoed the one by the steps, with further paths radiating from it like a mandala, that invited further exploration. The walls were covered in paintings, the largest a trompe l’oeil of pillars and stucco walls with doors that opened onto a version Van Gogh’s “Olive Trees in a Mountainous Landscape” rather than the more traditional depiction of gardens that might have been expected. Siannon wondered if there was a story behind that, but doubted she would ever find out. As she followed the paths through the greenery she had the urge to fill the place with music, to drop notes into the air as a counterpoint melody to the faint drip and splash of water from playing of the now unseen fountain. She made her way back to the Doctor, Jack and Methos with that idea fresh in her mind, not trying to hide the smile on her face.

“Best swimming pool I’ve ever seen,” she said. “It’s just missing one tiny thing...”

“Missing? Wha...” The Doctor sounded incredulous and the rest of what he said was lost as he spluttered incoherently to a stop by dint of Jack covering his mouth with a large hand, though that didn’t stop him from giving Siannon a silent and dagger-like glare. She gave him, and Jack, her sweetest smile.

“Thanks, Jack,” she said, then continued, “The place is gorgeous, Doctor, but to my mind it lacks a certain ambience that could be improved by the judicious application of music.” Jack removed his hand which allowed the Doctor to reply in a rather bemused fashion.

“The judicious application of what?” 

Siannon’ s smile widened, but she didn’t get the chance to answer as Methos beat her to it.

“Music. Translated that means Siannon would like to play the harp in here. Well, probably the harp, unless things have changed significantly in the years we’ve been away.” 

“They haven’t,” Siannon said, grinning from ear to ear. She should have realised Methos would know exactly what she meant, they’d first met each other after he’d heard her playing the harp on the Acropolis in Athens some 1250 or so years previously, before she threw it off a cliff in a fit of despair and he persuaded her not to follow it; music had been an important part of her life both before that, and in the centuries since. 

“Oh.”The Doctor scratched his head and glanced around the room with a puzzled expression on his face, as if he was seeing it from a different perspective than normal and wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. His gaze eventually rested back on Siannon. “Is that really what you want to do?” He asked.

Siannon nodded. To have the Doctor’s eyes boring into her own was rather disconcerting to say the least.

“You keep a harp in your pub? Blimey.” The Doctor sounded rather incredulous to her ears, as if he wasn’t used to being surprised. Considering he was a time travelling alien he probably wasn't, which gave her a strange sort of satisfaction.

“More than one, actually, but yes. Though over the pub would be more accurate,” she replied.

“And you want to bring one here? And play it?” He was almost bouncing on his toes in what Siannon presumed to be gleeful anticipation and she was glad she was already smiling as she would have been unable to contain one at The Doctor’s display of enthusiasm.

“That’s the general idea,” she said.

“Ooh, that’d be a bit good.” He turned to flash a grin at Jack, who was still standing next to him. “Don’t you think so, Jack?”

“I know so, I’ve heard her play before. Only once, though, so I’m more than happy to repeat the experience,” Jack said.

The Doctor clapped his hands. “That’s settled then. I can hardly wait!”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a short while, I’ve got to fetch it! Might be quicker with another pair of hands though, so I’ll borrow Methos and we can catch up on boring immortal stuff while he’s making himself useful for a change,” Siannon gave Methos a nudge on the shoulder. 

The Doctor and Jack both chuckled; Methos glared at her though she could see the smile twitching one corner of his mouth and threatening to break out over his face.

“Thanks, Siannon. Still treating me like a pack horse, I see,” he grumbled.

“That’s because you’re sooo good at it, even if you do need some hefty persuasion at times.”

“Hmph.”

“Quit mithering, Old Man, soonest begun is soonest done and all that, so get your arse into gear and give me hand,” she said in her best mock-stern voice. She knew that he wasn’t actually bothered about being inveigled into helping her lug a cláirseach back to the TARDIS, but the banter was a comfortable, if slightly dubious, habit and thus almost second nature.

Methos sighed. “Do I have a choice?”

“No. You could refuse but then I’d just drag you out anyway.”

“I suppose I’d best admit defeat then.”

“You suppose right. Come on.” She headed back toward the library, and from there to the winding corridors of the TARDIS. She hoped she could remember the way out but she didn’t check to see if Methos was following as a matter of principle. The glorious sound of Jack almost howling with laughter drifted out behind her. She smiled, it had been too long since she’d heard Jack truly laugh and it had music and magic all of its own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story of Methos and Siannon's first meeting can be read in [ Misery Turns](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20216) here on AO3.
> 
> And for the Swimming pool itself, some of the inspiration can be seen [here](https://a-lanart.dreamwidth.org/251193.html)


	8. Chapter 8

~*~

Siannon wondered just how far away from the TARDIS they’d get before Methos found it necessary to ask the question that was so obviously eating away at him. It turned out to be less than 10 steps, about what she’d expected. He was ambling along beside her, hands in his coat pockets looking for all the world as nondescript as he could. 

“What was so important that you didn’t want to mention it inside the TARDIS?” He asked carefully.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Siannon tried for innocent knowing that she’d fail dismally as Methos was far too well acquainted with her to fall for it. He didn’t disappoint.

“Pull the other one,” he said without looking at her or breaking his stride. “‘Boring immortal stuff’ indeed. Something’s obviously bothering you or you wouldn’t have dragged me off under false pretences. You’ve never needed my help to carry only one cláirseach before.”

She gave him a tight smile and a one shouldered shrug that he didn’t acknowledge but she knew he would have noticed.

“You’re right of course, but I’m not talking about it out here either. Plus we have a harp to wrangle so you’re going to have to come up to the flat anyway while I decide which one. I can provide beer as an incentive though.”

That got Methos to react and flash her a smile.

“Fair enough, lead on,” he said.

Siannon didn’t want to disturb Tony when he was working, so she led Methos round to the door on Bute Street which opened onto a hallway that contained the lift to the upper floors amongst other things. She did have an entrance directly onto the stairs at the back of the building, no immortal would be comfortable in a home with only one entrance/exit, but the lift was much more convenient and comfortable. In a building the size of the old station house she also felt it was fairly essential, especially as she’d wanted to make sure all the public areas were accessible to everyone.

As the lift doors closed, she hit the button for the second floor. 

“What’s on the first floor?” Methos asked.

“Pub storage and the function room which is directly above the main part of the pub so has the other bay window. It’s a good space.” The lift doors opened and Siannon stepped out into the bright and welcoming lobby, throwing her arms wide in an expansive gesture. “Welcome to my domain,” she announced. “Though strictly speaking it’s only mostly my domain.”

“Mostly?”

“Tony has an office up here, so he can get far from the madding crowd when he’s got some serious admin to do.” She pointed to the door opposite the window. “Then there’s a bit of general storage over there,” she indicated the door opposite the lift. “And that’s me.” She directed Methos towards the door in the wall that was adjacent to the lift, but set back slightly. It had a keypad rather than a standard lock. She smiled at him. “Let yourself in, you’ll know the code.”

The smile faltered a little, even as Methos gave her his best Spock eyebrow.

“Seriously, you will,” she said. “It’s 6 numbers but I’m not giving you any more clues than that.” 

Siannon watched as Methos frowned thoughtfully at the keypad, staring at at it as if the numbers would reveal themselves in the air above it, but she offered nothing else as he would be quite aware that the numbers would have to be something significant to them both. It didn’t take long before the frown cleared from his face and he tapped in 19 08 83; the lock clicked. He glanced over his shoulder at her as he pushed the door ajar.

“You do realise there was the possibility I wouldn’t remember Ianto’s birthday, don’t you?”

Siannon made a less than polite gesture in Methos’ direction, she was well able to recognise when he was talking rubbish.

“Pffft. Of course you’d remember, it’ll be a significant date to you for decades, possibly centuries. I know you,” she said. That gained her another Spock eyebrow and one of Methos speciality enigmatic smiles.

“Do you really?”

“OK, rephrase that; I know you better than most and as well as you’ll allow me to, will that do?” He nodded, smile widening. She grinned in response, leaned past him and pushed the door open wide. “Now, shall we go on in instead of standing out here like lemons?”

The door opened onto another, smaller, lobby that contained her ‘proper’ front door, a table and chairs, a couple of cupboards and a hat stand/umbrella holder. She was too old fashioned not to want a solid door and lock between her and the outside world and the lobby area was useful. She dug her key out of a pocket and unlocked the door, standing back to let Methos in past her as she swung it open.

After their coats had been properly hung up on the rack beside the door, Siannon let Methos poke around the place mostly unsupervised, forestalling his half articulated question with a raised hand,

“Ah, ah, ah,” she said, in a tone any child or dog and even Methos would understand. “Beer first.”

He shrugged and carried on looking at her books and cds.

Once they were ensconced in comfortable chairs, drinks in hand, Siannon found she was at a loss for words despite having brought Methos over solely for this discussion. She sighed and took a swig of her beer. She could feel Methos staring at her but she declined to meet his eyes.

“Spit it out, you obviously need to or you wouldn’t be sitting there giving me the silent treatment,” he said gently.

“I honestly don’t know where to start, Methos, it’s all a bit of a mess,” she sighed, then raised her head and met his eyes. She’d known this would be difficult but the bleak prospect of telling him about Johnson hurt more than expected. It had to be done but that didn’t mean she was going to enjoy the telling.

“A Torchwood mess or an immortal mess?” Methos leaned back in his chair without breaking eye contact, demanding clarification with a glance.

“Both, actually, plus it involves Jack directly which is why I didn’t want to mention it while I was in the TARDIS,” she said.

“Oho, if it’s both then it means one of your new team has to be either immortal or pre immortal.”

“Got it in one. Or more accurately, two. One of the team, apart from me, is already immortal but that isn’t the problem as you know him.”

“I do? Him? Hmmm…” She stared at his fingers tapping against the bottle as he thought for a few seconds. “It’s Richie Ryan, isn’t it?” He asked.

“Bingo,” she replied. “Strictly speaking he’s only part time in Cardiff, he mostly lives at my house in Cumbria and otherwise divides his time between Glasgow and here alternate weeks. He’s taken to it like a duck to water and doesn’t mind all the travelling involved in the slightest.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. So what’s he doing in Cumbria when he’s not being Torchwood? I can’t see Richie taking it easy.”

“IT consultancy. He’s become indispensable as the local ‘computer man’ and being willing to travel all over Cumbria has actually turned out to be quite lucrative. There’s one hell of a grapevine amongst the locals so he’s been getting recommended to lots of people.”

“That will suit Richie’s itchy feet.”

“It does, he’s been over here permanently for a good few years now and shows no signs of wanting to move on, which is very good for Torchwood.”

“Which brings us to your pre-immortal,” Methos said with an air of finality. Siannon breathed deeply, forcing back her apprehension. Methos glanced at her. “I’m assuming Richie knows about them?” he continued. 

“He does, he didn’t realise at first because of me blurring things, but he soon cottoned on.”

“So, what’s the problem and how does it relate to Jack?”

Another breath. And Another. She clutched onto the bottle in her hands to avoid clenching her fists and digging her nails into her palms. There was no easy way to say it, so she decided to be succinct.

“She’s the one who blew up Jack and the Hub, and was there when Stephen…”

“Fuck!” Methos surged to his feet as he interrupted her and stalked around the room, cursing eloquently in more languages than Siannon usually understood, though she got the meaning perfectly as if someone was translating inside her head. Even if that hadn’t been the case there was no mistaking Methos’ body language and tone of voice. She bit her lip as Methos fell silent and watched as he prowled, his face like granite. He eventually came to a stop and glared at her with his eyes spitting fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a line that hints at this revelation in Torchwood 3: The Phoenix of Cardiff Bay (therefore also in chapter 5 of Reign of Scars - though chapter 6 as posted due to the prologue - if you want to track it down).


	9. Chapter 9

As Methos loomed over her, Siannon felt thankful that she wasn’t the real target of his fury, though that didn’t stop her from feeling guilty for causing him pain. He was only ever this angry when someone he cared about had been hurt. 

“When?” Methos snarled.

“She surrendered to us before Jack left…”

“So you already knew when you took me to Seacouver?”

“Yes. You know telling you then would have accomplished nothing and probably have made things worse,” she said. She knew it was the truth and she could only hope he would see that, and sooner rather than later. Methos closed his eyes, shook his head, took a deep breath and stepped back. When he opened his eyes again the fury had gone. Siannon breathed a sigh of relief, aware that he would notice but she really didn’t care. He frowned at her, which was an improvement from the furious glare she’d been subjected to only moments previously. 

“I have to agree with that much being true, but what on earth possessed you to let her be a part of Torchwood when you could have just killed her and be done with it,” he said. There was no heat, no accusation in his voice but she couldn’t miss the genuine need to _know_. Methos always wanted to know the why of things, whether he agreed with them or not. She gave him a half smile.

“Oh believe me, I thought about it, and more than once at that, but Gwen wouldn’t let me.”

“Gwen?!!” 

“Yes, Gwen. Johnson was with Gwen, watching, when Ianto… Anyway, Gwen believed her when she said she wanted to atone as much as possible for her actions. At the time she was behaving like any soldier would and was just following orders without really thinking about it. When she finally _did_ think about what she had done she realised she had not only been misguided, but downright wrong, and because of her actions in following those orders she had betrayed those she was supposed to protect.”

“Meaning?”

“The people. If Frobisher hadn’t already killed himself I think she would have done it before coming to us.”

Methos sank back into his chair and downed the rest of his beer. He looked at the bottle, then at Siannon. 

“I need something stronger,” he said.

“Me too,” she agreed. “Give me a minute.” 

She made her way into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of glasses and poured a generous slug of Bushmills for each of them. After a moments hesitation she tucked the bottle under her arm before heading back into the lounge, glasses in hand. The bottle was strategically placed on the coffee table within easy reach of them both as she sat down. They drank in loaded silence for a while until Methos broke it.

“So, your pre-immortal. Johnson, you said?” 

Siannon nodded.

“Does she know about immortals at all?”

“Not yet. I gather she was under the impression that Jack’s immortality was related to the Hub and the rift which was the reason she was given for blowing them up. She doesn’t know about our type of immortals at all. Rich and I have had a couple of close calls, but we’ve been able to explain those away luckily enough. I’m sure she is suspicious of _something_ as most people don’t carry swords around with them, but she’s been with us long enough to know that Torchwood eats odd for breakfast and she hasn’t mentioned anything in particular.”

“So what are you going to do? You know what Torchwood is like, she’s lucky she hasn’t already found out she’s immortal.” 

“I know. She’s as prepared as Rich and I can get her without letting the cat out of the bag and the sword skills have actually come in handy more than once for Torchwood incidents, which stopped some of the bloody questions.” 

“Only some?” 

“Oh she’s very determined, but I learned how to weasel out of giving a direct answer centuries ago thanks to some sneaky old git deciding to pop in and out of my life every so often.” Siannon smiled as she raised her glass in a silent toast towards Methos.

“Thanks, I think,” he replied with a slightly pained expression on his face.

“Well you are, and you have; not always conveniently either, I might add. Anyway, I’d planned on doing a big reveal next time Rich was in Cardiff, hoping she would accept Jack as the same as us by implication but I hadn’t intended to explain about Quickenings and everything else until her immortality was triggered and it was immediately relevant to her.” 

“I’m still not entirely sure I understand why you needed to speak to me before you told Jack,” he said. To Siannon’s surprise he looked genuinely puzzled, not that she blamed him as she wasn’t entirely sure herself, but at least she could attempt an explanation for both their sakes. She stared into her glass for a moment, sighed, then glanced back at Methos.

“Guilt, amongst other things, I suppose,” she replied. “Plus I happen to have known you longer than anyone else in my life. You and Jack have both evolved from your past selves, same as Johnson is doing, but you live with yours a little more easily than he does. Knowing that, I just couldn’t tell him when he came to pick you up years ago. He knows about Rich and Lois, but not about the rest of the team, though there’s more of us now than there was back then.”

“So what do you want me to do about it?” Siannon sighed, that was what she’d struggled to determine while she flailed around in her head, trying to anticipate this very meeting. Luckily, she now had an answer.

“I want you to apply your devious little brain to the situation and help me come up with a plan, of course. It should be on me to break it to him, but I wouldn’t mind a bit of help from your sideways thinking as I get bogged down by what ifs, which is no help at all.”

“It wouldn’t be.” He gave her a sideways glance and a hint of a smile. “I think I can manage that, but I do object to having my brain being referred to as ‘little’.”

“Noted.” She returned Methos’ ghost of a smile with one of her own. His mouth twitched at the corner. “I’m sorry, but…” she managed to choke out before the rest of her words were lost to a fit of the giggles. When she got herself under control, Methos was outright grinning at her.

“Now you’ve got that out of your system, I hope you’ve remembered we have a harp to wrangle. Plus, I want a tour before we leave.” 

Siannon waved a hand in acquiescence, she wasn’t quite ready to risk speaking, and manoeuvred herself out of her chair. If a tour was what Methos wanted, then that was what he would get.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Methos muse demanded he be allowed to get emotional in this chapter. You have been warned.

Methos had already seen the main room and while the flat was spacious, it was hardly the size of either her home in the old church in Cumbria or the jumble of old buildings that was home in Ireland; still, it was a good space, and more importantly she loved it and felt it was a happy home. Living over a pub certainly didn’t hurt either and she knew Methos wouldn’t disagree with that. She chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” He asked.

“Just thinking that your favourite part of the place would probably be the fact that it’s over the pub.”

“So far it is as I haven’t seen anything else, have I?”

“True enough, so lets start with the kitchen.” She grabbed the Bushmills and the glasses off the table and headed towards the kitchen, Methos obediently trailing behind her. The glasses were dumped in the sink to be dealt with later but the Bushmills was carefully put away with the rest of her personal single malt collection though not before she’d heard a sigh from behind her. 

“That is some collection,” Methos commented. She wasn’t sure if he sounded admiring or envious, and decided it was most probably both. She glanced over her shoulder at him.

“Get your lecherous eyes away from my Knappogue ‘51, you. The Bushmills was decent.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t, but…”

“Immortals all seem to collect something as they get older, I decided on whisky for a change sometime last century.” She turned round and grinned at Methos before she continued, cutting him off before he’d done more than drawn breath. “I didn’t tell anyone.” 

“MacLeod would love to get his hands on some of those.”

“Which is one reason why I didn’t tell anyone, he knows far too many people and would have heard on the grapevine, I’m sure. I didn’t want a whisky hunting Highlander sneaking around after me. I’m sure he’s got more than a few special bottles himself that he doesn’t disclose to all and sundry, including you and Joe.”

“True enough.”

She closed the door on her whisky, and waved a hand to encompass the room. “So; kitchen. The whisky’s probably the most interesting thing about it.” Methos smiled at her, eyes crinkling in that endearing way he had.

“There’s the fridge, too,” he said. Siannon didn’t try to hold back her laughter.

“You old… Oh go on then, help yourself. Just don’t spill any, the flat’s clean and tidy for a change and it would be nice if it stayed that way for longer than 5 minutes.” She shook her head to his unspoken question as he fished a bottle out and deftly flicked the top off. Still chuckling, she led the way from the kitchen.

The bathroom, bedroom and guest room drew nothing verbal from him but she noticed his appreciative glances at the exposed stonework and other original touches that she’d kept as features with satisfaction; the place had good bones and she enjoyed seeing that acknowledged. There were just two rooms left. Methos had abandoned his empty bottle somewhere, which meant that there would be no risk to the contents of either room. The music room was her pride and joy because it was there that she still had a link to her early life, but… She turned to Methos and smiled.

“Music room?” He asked, proving that he knew her far too well, as if she’d needed it to be proved. That worked both ways though, and while she couldn’t say she knew Methos as well as he knew her – not for lack of her trying – she was entirely aware of his more recent, earthly, past. It hadn’t always been him sharing the information either, but she was sure he was entirely cognisant of that fact. 

“Office first,”she replied. She caught a hint of surprise in his eyes. “You’ll see why,” she added, but she wasn’t going to give him more hints than that. Her office was where she maintained links to her more recent past, which just happened to link up with his on more than a few occasions, something that she knew he would appreciate. She indicated that Methos should precede her, which prompted him to give her a somewhat quizzical glance over his shoulder as he stretched out his hand to grasp the door handle. Then he paused, still watching her, so she gave him an encouraging smile and a nod. 

* 

Methos found himself vaguely irritated, reluctantly curious and also faintly amused by Siannon’s cryptic insistence on showing him her office before the music room. She probably just wanted to end the ‘tour’ on a high note, no doubt practically as well as metaphorically, but with Siannon there was always room for an ulterior motive and she’d proved that more than once in the last millennium. He gently pushed the door open and took a step into what appeared at first glance to be no more than another common-or-garden home office, although it was one with Siannon’s personal stamp on it. He got as far as taking a breath in order to complain about its boring functionality when he noticed the walls, or more accurately what adorned the walls, and her desk. The breath caught in his throat and emerged as a choked gasp as an unexpected surge of emotion flooded through him. 

The walls were a shrine to the Torchwood that they both had known. Ianto, Owen and Tosh all smiled – and grimaced in Owen’s case – at him from the walls, both separately and together. Jack appeared in many of the group shots, Siannon was in a few but he didn’t see any that included himself. It wasn’t a real surprise as he had always kept some distance between himself and the rest of the Torchwood team but the lack could have rankled if he had allowed it to as he had been part of their lives, albeit intermittently, especially during the time Jack had been away. He slowly turned on the spot, remembering as the images drifted past his eyes, each memory bright and fragile as if it was enclosed in crystal. His breath hitched as one image in particular impinged on his consciousness; it was Ianto, mallet in hand, with brick dust in his hair and smudged across his nose and cheek, looking ridiculously young and mildly dangerous at the same time as he scowled threateningly over the mallet in his hands. Methos had taken the photo when Ianto took it upon himself to open up the blocked off archway near the autopsy bay. He had offered Ianto helpful suggestions, usually from the safety of the squishy old couch, but little else and certainly no practical help, hence the scowl on Ianto’s face. He hadn’t been able to resist taking the photo and after he did that he’d wiped the brick dust away with his fingers and the scowl away with a kiss. Or two. Or three. His eyes drifted shut as he conjured up the memory; the smell of brick dust and the sound of Ianto’s melodious voice muttering about lazy old sods who didn’t pull their weight. It had been a good day.

Methos loved Jack deeply and had adored every moment he had spent with both him and Ianto, but the time he’d had alone with Ianto held a poignancy and piercing sweetness that was unlike anything he shared with Jack, both past and present, and so the memories were all the more treasured as they were all he had. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. He didn’t look at Siannon as he was all too aware that his heart would be in his eyes and while she might know how he felt, he didn’t like to have it exposed to anyone but the people concerned.

“There’s more,” she replied. “Take a closer look at the desk.”

Obediently, Methos moved in that direction, only noticing the photo collage nestling in the alcove between the bookshelves that framed the desk as he approached; it could not be seen from the door.

And there it was; the hard evidence of his time with Jack, Ianto and Torchwood in general. Some pictures he remembered being taken, some he recognised but the rest he hadn’t known about at the time. In almost every shot he looked… happy, and in some he was downright incandescent. He stared, not used to seeing this aspect of himself on display; it was strangely moving and more than a little disconcerting, not that he would confirm that no matter what Siannon suspected. On the desk itself there were two framed photos. One was a group shot of him, Siannon, Ianto and Jack and he chuckled as he picked it up, the memory surfacing with little effort. They’d been in the pub, Siannon sandwiched between himself and Ianto – which she looked entirely too pleased about in the photo - when Jack sprawled across their knees so he could fit in the picture, one of his trademark megawatt grins on his face. The other was… 

Methos sat down in the desk chair with a thump, his breath stolen once more. He remembered Siannon taking the photo and on first glance it had appeared to be a typical sort of Christmas mistletoe picture of the three of them, the mistletoe being held by Jack of course, and more or less what he’d expected at the time but to anything more than a passing glance the love they had for each other was an obvious, almost tangible thing that radiated from the photo. 

“_Duwiau!_ I just… I don’t…” He closed his mouth with a snap and bit his lip rather than stumble over any further words that still wouldn’t explain how he felt. He settled for carefully picking up the photo and just staring, drinking in the sight of their hearts laid bare for all to see. He felt Siannon stand behind him.

“When I took it I didn’t realise it would be more than a casual snap. I…” She said, then took a deep breath and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Put it this way, I cried when I first saw it.”

“I’m not surprised. It… it’s…” He waved a hand in frustration at his lack of eloquence before gently placing it back on the desk. “I don’t suppose…” he left the question unspoken but not unasked, hanging in the air between them as he turned in the chair to face her.

She answered with a blazing smile that he couldn’t help but return, then stepped around him to rummage briefly in one of the desk drawers, producing a box that she then laid on the desk in front of him before she took up a perch on the edge of the desk, as had been her wont in Jack’s office in The Hub. He let his fingers rest for a few moments on the box, collecting his scattered thoughts. One thing that he and Jack had felt was missing from their space on the TARDIS was a decent picture of the three of them together and now, thanks to Siannon, they had one. Almost reverently, he opened the box.

Red textured silk met his eyes, it was tightly wrapped around the supporting frame and had obviously been specially made for this picture. He ran a finger along it, flashes of memory hitting him hard, one after the other; Ianto laughing as he allowed Methos to straighten his tie after Jack had cheerfully messed up Ianto’s effort to look professional for work; Ianto with tie loosened and hair mussed after a hard day, exasperatedly hovering over his beloved coffee machine; Ianto, naked but for the strip of red silk – this red silk – covering his eyes. Methos realised he must have made some sort of sound as Siannon moved to stand next to him and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Find me when you’re ready,” she said and left him alone with his memories, his love and his regrets. He touched the image of Ianto lightly, with the heartfelt wish that it could be warm and vital skin under his fingers and not cold, lifeless glass. He sniffed, and scrubbed a hand across his stinging eyes.

“We still miss you, you know.” Methos said to the picture. “We always will.” With that, he replaced the lid on the box allowing his fingertips to rest there for a few moments while he let his eyes drift shut and just breathed in an effort to anchor himself in the here and now, to balance the flood of unexpectedly turbulent emotions with something that passed for normal in his strange life with The Doctor, Jack and the TARDIS.

Equilibrium eventually attained, he picked up the box and scrambled up out of the chair. He would stow it in his coat before rejoining Siannon as it was far too precious to risk either forgetting or damaging before he returned to the TARDIS. That done, he headed for the sumptuous bathroom to splash his face with cold water in an effort to be presenting more of a normal face to his friend, not that she would care one way or the other but it was important to him. She would understand, she always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story of Ianto and the wall can be read [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/57155)
> 
> Duwiau means "Gods" in Welsh. At least I hope it does...


	11. Chapter 11

Siannon had ensured that Methos would know where to find her, when he was ready, by dint of leaving the door to her music room open as she dug out the carry case for the wire strung cláirseach she’d decided to play for the TARDIS. The walls were mostly bare of decoration because some of her instruments were hung up and were more than decorative enough in her opinion, but she had one framed photograph on the wall, placed just where she could see it when she was sitting down to play one of her harps. It was the only thing in the music room that Methos wouldn’t have expected to find, but after what he’d seen in her office she doubted he’d be surprised. It was another picture of Ianto, in the Hub by the water tower, laughing as he held up a sauce covered fish for Myfanwy who appeared to be eyeing him somewhat balefully from her perch above. Siannon smiled as she glanced up at the photo; playing catch with saucy fish could get messy but it had been, and still was, one of Myfanwy’s favourite games. She’d always had a soft spot for the time displaced pterosaur and Ianto had encouraged that for no other reason than he seemed to be glad that someone else shared his affinity for her. It didn’t hurt that Siannon had also been more than willing to learn how to keep their winged resident as healthy, and happy, as possible. Siannon had taken over most of Myfanwy’s care when she returned to Torchwood and she got the feeling the pteranodon missed Ianto almost as much as she and Gwen did at first, but she seemed to have got used to her new home and human family.

She smiled up at Methos from her position on the floor as he appeared in the doorway and waved him in. He glanced around the room, eyes pausing on the photograph for a moment, then returned her smile.

“I never quite understood your fascination with the flying dinosaur, but that’s a great photo,” he said and Siannon could tell that he meant that with regards to Ianto as well as herself.

“The flying dinosaur does have a name, you know.”

“I know. I bet Ianto never told Owen what Myfanwy actually means.”

“Fairly certain you’re right there, can you just imagine his face?” She chuckled while Methos grinned at her. Owen hadn’t been particularly fond of Myfanwy and to find out her name was essentially ‘my lovely one’ would probably have earned Ianto a tongue lashing but with Owen being Owen, he hadn’t been interested in discovering what an ‘unpronounceable’ Welsh name had meant. 

“Do you still sing to her?” Siannon was puzzled for a second, until she remembered that she’d told Jack when he’d been searching for Methos five years before that Myfanwy had found a home with Torchwood once more. Methos was one of the three people who had known of her habit of singing to Myfanwy back then.

“What do you think? Of course I do, when she’s in the mood for it. I’ve no idea what the life expectancy of a pteranodon is but Myfanwy has us, and me in particular, as her family for however long she lives.”

“Ianto would approve,” he murmured, smiling gently as he glanced at the picture once more. 

“I hope so,” she replied. She unwound herself and stood up as the harp was safely packed for its short journey. “Right, I’m almost done, just one more thing and we can make tracks.” The one more thing was folding stool that she passed to Methos, and though she was perfectly capable of carrying it as well as her harp, after her earlier threat of using him as a pack horse she was going to make use of him.

It wasn’t long before they were outside the TARDIS once more but Methos didn’t immediately unlock the door for her, and when he did there was an air of reticence, almost reluctance, about the way he slowly pushed it open. Siannon realised he needed some time out with Jack and from what she’d seen of the Doctor so far he was unlikely to get it unless she ran interference. For Methos, and for Jack, that was the least she could do.

“I’ve got this,” she said warmly, and not a moment too soon as the Doctor exploded out of the door and almost ran them over. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d been hovering on the other side, just waiting for the sound of the key in the lock.

“You took long enough! What were you doing?” The Doctor glanced quickly between Jack standing behind him, and Methos. “On second thoughts, don’t answer that, I’m not sure I want to know.”

“Good, because I wasn’t going to,” Siannon said. “You can make yourself useful, Doctor, and take that stool off Methos so you can help me get set up. They can find us later.”

“Not too much later, though,” the Doctor said, wagging a finger at Methos as he grabbed the indicated stool. “Got that?”

“Loud and clear,” Jack replied with a somewhat puzzled grin. Methos flashed her a smile, presumably in thanks, as she set off to follow the Doctor who had charged past Jack without a second glance. She redistributed the weight of her harp and stretched her legs to catch him up, determined to give Methos as much processing time alone with Jack as she could.

Once they had reached the swimming pool room, which seemed such a woefully inadequate description of such a marvellous space, Siannon set the Doctor to rearranging the furniture. She’d decided to play her cláirseach by the fountain so the sound of the water would act as accompaniment. The Doctor groused about her being a slave driver and how unfair it was having to move things around in his own TARDIS, but he did as he was bade possibly because despite his complaining he was actually looking forward to hearing her play. She didn’t ask, and ensured she kept him busy enough that he wasn’t constantly checking the time or blathering on about Jack and Methos taking too long to return.

Once Siannon had the furniture positioned to her satisfaction and there was still no sign of the other two, she decided to distract the Doctor further by demonstrating the workings of the harp. Thankfully he was engrossed, though she felt sorry for her cláirseach as he ummed and ahhed and pointed at this and that with fingers that he barely seemed to have under conscious control. Luckily her cláirseach had survived worse over the decades but she was very glad it wasn’t a machine that went ‘ping’ or she probably would have had to slap his inquisitive hands away before he damaged something. Consequently, she was relieved when Jack and Methos arrived. Jack’s eyes were suspiciously bright and in her opinion Methos still looked a little fragile and frayed around the edges, but they were both smiling which was as favourable an outcome as she could have wanted.

The Doctor waved them in.

“So glad you’ve joined us, I think Siannon was beginning to worry about the safety of her harp,” he said. She clamped her mouth shut on a tart rejoinder, she hadn’t realised she’d been _that_ transparent and instead offered them all a smile.

“Make yourselves comfortable, I’m used to playing for hours…” She ran through a few more scales to ensure they were all ready; herself, the cláirseach and her audience, then with a deep breath, she began to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Siannon would be playing a style of harp similar to the ones that are sold at [Eriu Harps](http://eriuharps.com/index.php/instruments/clairseach/) and at [Starfish Designs](https://starfishdesigns.co.uk/).  
If you're interested in knowing what a wire strung harp sounds like, here are some links to you tube videos:  
[here](https://youtu.be/RmxVz7BjumA), [here](https://youtu.be/xFsOfuZrOco), and [here](https://youtu.be/0tT9MGhvzFU). Though [this](https://youtu.be/eHMeeMRtfxc) one in particular gives you an idea of what the harp would sound like with a watery accompaniment.


End file.
